


Summer Skin

by stanclub



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, F/M, Flashbacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tattoos, Therapy, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Bucky, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:48:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanclub/pseuds/stanclub
Summary: Touch. It’s a fundamental human need. Bucky Barnes, however, was starved of it; never had a kind hand laid on him during his time with Hydra. His therapist had some work done by a very well-known tattoo artist in Brooklyn, and suggested that he try it out. That’s where you come in. You’re very well known for tattooing people with sensory problems. It’s your niche. You’re very understanding. You have quick reflexes and a soft touch. When Bucky walks through your office door, you just know you have to help him.





	1. Prologue

“James, I think this could potentially be good for you if you give it a chance,” the therapist said as she jotted notes down in his ever-growing file. “Pick something small if you’d like, I don’t think the size will matter, but the physical process of receiving a piece of personally chosen artwork on your skin might just be cathartic.” Bucky nodded at her, noting her own beautifully done sleeve of greyscale geometric shapes donning her left arm.

She told him once during one of their sessions about the scarring that marred the skin beneath those shapes. There was a time in her life she dealt with things in a rather unhealthy way, and as she recovered, she decided to decorate that arm, not to cover her story but to serve as a reminder. Clearly, her situation was not the same as his, but she was very intuitive. She might just be on to something.

“Do you have any ideas on what you’d like to get?” She asked.

“Maybe I’ll have Steve draw something. That way, it could be meaningful and maybe serve as my reminder.” Bucky moved his flesh hand to the back of his neck as he spoke and rubbed the skin there nervously.

Knowing the answer to his unasked question, the therapist spoke once again. “Yes, the tattoo artist will have to touch you. Again, James, I think this will be good for you. It’s in a controlled environment and things are sterile. The contact is minimal. If you don’t think you can manage, that’s fine. We can try a different route.”

Bucky mulled it over. Yes, he was nervous. So, so nervous. But for the better part of his life he’d been known as “The Asset.” The only touches he ever received during his time as The Soldier were not pleasant. They were purposeful and harmful but never pleasant. Having anyone touch him seemed overwhelming now, and he’d do just about anything to get to the point where Steve could pat his shoulder and Bucky wouldn’t worry about reflexively punching him straight in the jaw.

“I can do this. I want to,” he told his therapist. He felt his face flush at her approving smile.

At the end of their session, Bucky took the card she offered to him. On it was the shop name and artist of the person who did her own tattoos. “She’s the best, James. She’s got a soft, therapeutic touch and she won’t push small talk. Doesn’t ask questions. I can’t recommend her enough.”

“Thank you,” he said as he pocketed the small card. “Same time next week?”

“You bet, Sergeant Barnes.”


	2. The Impression That I Get

“Alright, Buck, this is it. You sure about this? We can still back out,” Steve said, ever the perfect description of a best-friend-for-life. He and Bucky were walking swiftly down the sidewalk towards a seemingly dilapidated building in old Brooklyn, not far from where the two of them grew up.

“Yes, I am absolutely sure. No, I don’t want to back out. I need this, Stevie.” With that, the two men approached the clear glass door of the tattoo shop, the name The Skin Canvas there in old Sailor Jerry lettering. “You have the drawing, right?”

Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper, handing it to Bucky. The two of them walked up to the counter where a guy who looked to be in his mid-20s was going through some traditional flash and re-organizing the wall behind him, so Steve politely cleared his throat alerting the man to their presence.

“Hi, welcome to The Skin Canvas. Do either of you have an appointment today?” He asked, looking between two rather intimidating super-soldiers.

Bucky took a small step forward and spoke up. “I do. Last name is Barnes.”

The guy smiled and nodded, went to the computer that sat on the counter, and began typing furiously. “Alright, awesome. Would you like to be called James or…?”

“Um, Bucky will be fine.” The guy nodded and walked to the back of the shop.

“(Y/N) is just finishing up with a client. She’ll be out in about 10 minutes. I’ll take your drawing so we can get a stencil set up. Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat while you wait.”

Bucky turned to sit on one of the plush black leather couches that decorated the waiting area and Steve followed, picking up a photo album full of work on his way. From what he could tell, there were at least 4 artists who worked there, but the book he grabbed belonged to the artist that would tattoo Bucky. Steve opened the book and started flipping through the various tattoos decorating different places on the body and different skin tones, and they were all amazing.

When the book opened to a familiar sleeve of geometric shapes, Bucky pointed to it. “That’s my therapist.”

“She wasn’t lyin’ man. This is amazing work! All of it!”

It was then that the front counter guy approached them once more, stencil in hand. “Alright Bucky, she’s ready for you.”

Standing, he turned to look at Steve. “Wish me luck, man.”

“You don’t need luck, and you know it.”

The counter guy, who finally introduced himself as Adam, walked him through a somewhat narrow corridor which led to several sterile rooms. Yours was the last one to the left, and as the two men round the corner into the small room, you were there waiting, kindness shining in your eyes. Once Adam left, you softly instructed Bucky to take a seat on the leather chair.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said softly before introducing yourself, careful to keep your hands to yourself. “What brings you in today?”

“You did some work on my therapist who recommended that I try getting tattooed as a form of therapy to overcome what I had gone through in my time with Hydra.”

You nodded, having heard all this before. His therapist was one of your best customers, and you had helped her overcome some things as well. “I think she may be on to something,” you told him, a playful wink punctuating your statement.

“So, Sarge, where do you want it?” A tense silence emanated from Bucky and when you realized what you had called him, and without his permission, you backpedaled. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He seemed to loosen a bit at your apology and shake himself out of whatever that was. “No, ma’am. I’m not uncomfortable. It was… nice.” A wistful smile had taken over his sharp features as he spoke.

You mentally pat yourself on the back for that small victory. You would absolutely help this man to the best of your ability if it was the last thing you did. “So, Sarge. Placement?”

He thought about it for a moment, tossing the few ideas he had around in his mind before speaking gently to you. “I need to see it. What good is a reminder if you can’t see it?” You nodded, waiting for him to continue. “I think I’d like it to either be right here–“ he pointed to his lower abdomen, slightly off center to the right, before speaking again, “or here,” he said, pointing at his right thigh.

“I can work with either of those. Why don’t we place the stencil at the first location and if you want to switch to your thigh, we can clean your skin and reposition. Sound good?”

Bucky nodded and stood to remove his shirt(s). Why on Earth this man wore so many layers you would never understand. He was a fucking Adonis beneath the henley and worn tee. You could tell he was a little skittish, probably about his metal arm, so you chose to pay it no mind at all figuring that would make him most comfortable.

“We need to clean your skin first. Would you prefer to do that part?” You procured a spray bottle which had the word s-a-n-i-t-i-z-e-r written in the sloppy script of Adam and a paper towel, which he accepted gratefully.

“Yes, thank you. What should I do?” He asked, looking a little sheepishly toward you for direction.

You explained how to best go about the process and when he was finished, took the sanitizer and towel from him, careful to avoid touching him. “Alright. Now it’s time to place the stencil. I’ll have to do this part, so if I’m making you uncomfortable in any way and you need me to stop, please tell me. No questions asked, alright?”

Bucky nodded, steeling himself for the contact. You made sure to be as gentle as possible as you brought the white paper to his skin, attempting to only touch the paper, applying soft pressure so that the line work would transfer completely. His breathing was labored but he remained perfectly still as he waited for you to finish. When you began slowly peeling the paper from his skin, you heard him exhale, and it was then that you realized you were holding your breath with him.

You set the stencil on the sanitized tray behind where the two of you were standing and brought Bucky to the full-length mirror in the small room. “How does that look?”

He took a moment to look himself over before turning to you, a little redness covering his cheeks. “If I choose this spot, I’ll have to be on my back during the tattooing, right? And there won’t be any tethers keeping me in place?”

You understood the question and where it was coming from, so you tried to explain in the best way possible. “Yes, you will need to lay on your back, but you could position yourself in whatever way is comfortable before we start. I will not need to be over you, I will not be holding you down nor do we have tethers or anything like that. You’ll be laying there of your own free will and you can have me stop whenever you need. We can do breaks, or we can stop the process altogether if you want. This is all you, I’m just here to hold the machine and direct it where to go.”

He blanched a little at the last part, so you picked up the machine in question and showed him. He inspected it, feeling silly, and nodded. “Yes. I want it here.”

“Alright, Sarge. Your wish is my command.”

-

You set to work prepping the inks and grabbing the supplies for your machine before instructing him to lay in the tattoo chair which was already in position. “I can get you a pillow if you need one,” you told him, careful to keep your voice steady as you spoke, trying to be as accommodating as possible for Bucky.

As he lowered himself onto the chair, he moved around trying to find a comfortable position that didn’t have him flat on his back, and after a few moments with no luck, you disappeared from the room. Coming back with two small throw pillows and one larger pillow, you assessed his position and spoke. “Can I suggest something?”

Letting out a frustrated huff, he looked at you with pleading eyes. “Yes, please do. I feel ridiculous.”

You stifled a laugh as you gave him one of the smaller throw pillows. “Put this one under your right side near your upper back.” He followed your suggestion before taking the bigger pillow. “Try putting that one under your right hip, since that’s the side we’re tattooing.” With the softness beneath his body, he seemed to relax, for which you thanked the heavens. You handed him the last small pillow and said, “If you need support, this one is for your neck.”

“Thank you so much,” he told you. “This is a lot better.”

He watched with fascination as you donned your blue nitrile gloves and began setting everything up. Ink was poured into small cups for easy access, machine was plugged in and ready to go, and everything was within your arm’s reach. Before beginning, you looked to Bucky, lying contently in the chair with his eyes closed. “Bucky,” you said, getting his attention. “I’m ready to begin. Do you have any more questions?”

He shook his head. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

The whir of the machine startled him slightly for a moment until he got used to the unfamiliar sound. You brushed his skin softly giving him a soothing trail of your fingers—as soothing as you could, anyway—before touching the needle to his skin. He jumped, which was to be expected, but quickly rectified his movement and laid as motionless as possible as you went to work.

After a few lines were drawn, you stopped to wipe the excess ink and blood that had slowly began to accumulate. “How ya doin’ Sarge?”

The sound he let out was not a pleased one. “I’m managing.”

You laughed softly to yourself. “Let the rhythm of the machine calm you if you can. The sound is soothing to many people, some focus on the pain, some on the burn that comes after. You’re choosing to do this for a reason, right?”

“Yes. To remind myself.”

“Of what?”

“That I am more than what I have done. That I am what I chose to overcome.” The words in his tattoo were meaningful. A mantra for the soldier to see on his own body every single day.

“I think that’s pretty fucking cool,” you told him as you sat back to admire your line work. You were about halfway finished with his outline, which seemed like a good place to take a break. “How about we stop for a few minutes. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

“Nah, I’m fine, doll. Can I smoke somewhere though? I don’t like to make a habit of it, but…” he trailed off gesturing to his torso.

“Sure. I’ll join you.” You shed your gloves and tossed them into the trash as you led the way out the back door, Bucky hot on your heels.

“You smoke?” he asked, noticing you hadn’t brought your own pack.

“On occasion. Used to all the time but quit. It got expensive, plus the health warnings ya know? But I still have one every once in a while.”

“How ‘bout we share this one then, huh?” he offered you his lit cigarette which you took gratefully. His mood seemed impossibly lighter now.

The two of you stood in companionable silence for a few minutes content to just share the smoke and people watch before you watched him snub out the butt of the cigarette and dispose of it in the ashtray. When he saw you make no move to go inside, he relaxed back on to the exterior of the building. “You know, my therapist was right I think. I’m feeling lighter than I have in a really long time.”

“That’s exactly what its supposed to do,” you told him with a wink. “Well, we should probably get back to it. I’m going to finish the other half of your outline today and then we’ll schedule more sessions to get the inside portions done.” Noticing his subtle look of disappointment, you laid a soft hand lightly against his arm and added “The more we can break it down, the easier it will be for you, Bucky,”

His eyes darted to the point of contact but he didn’t find himself flinching or recoiling. This was new. He looked from your hand to your eyes and felt a strange pang of sadness when he no longer felt your skin on his own.

-

The rest of the session finished up in no time. Bucky was used to the feel of the machine and your gloved hand on his skin, so he was able to concentrate on other things. The artwork on your walls was stunning, and he learned that the paintings weren’t just paintings, but multi-media paintings using beach glass you had collected in your travels during your tattooing apprenticeships. He also noticed that the room smelled like sunshine in the summertime. He asked you lots of questions about everything, which you enthusiastically answered, asking him questions in return. He shared some old stories of him and Steve, the Howling Commandos, and the Tower, and before either of you expected, his outline was finished.

You gathered the ink cups, needles, and towels you used and tossed them in the trash before rolling your gloves off and disposing of them, too. “You can get up, Sarge.” he moved to the mirror so he could see the outline, which spanned from just under where the waistband of his boxer briefs usually sit to just above his belly button. The design was complex, but nothing you couldn’t handle, and hand letters scrawled across a banner going through the entire design. Steve was good, but you were better.

“This looks amazing already,” Bucky told you, glee evident on his face.

“Just wait until it’s finished!” You let him admire it for a few more moments before getting the materials to wrap it. “Do you want to do the ointment yourself or…?”

He turned away from the mirror to look right at you, a happy, soft look in his eyes and a smile on his lips. Your breath hitched at the difference in the man who walked through your little room to the one who stood before you now. Happy looked good on Bucky and one thing was for sure… he was breathtaking.

You were too busy trying to pick your jaw up off the floor to notice Bucky had responded to you, until he said your name, shaking you from your reverie. “Oh, huh?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. He was used to people staring, but not like that. “I said you can, if that’s okay. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

“Alright!” You walked over to your box of gloves and donned a new pair before grabbing the ointment. You explained your motions and told him what to expect- slight scabbing is normal, heat is normal, if he shows signs of infection he needs to get treated, etc., to which he laughed.

“What’s so funny, asshole?” You joked, looking mock offended.

“Uh, Super Soldier, remember?”

You never realized until that moment, when a full smile took over his features that Sergeant James B. Barnes had dimples. Shit.

“Right. Well. Then I guess we can schedule your next session sooner than later, huh?” You both chuckled as you finished wrapping the tattooed area. “Alright, Sarge. Put your damn shirt on.”

-

He followed you out to the counter where you worked out payment and scheduled his next session, and he begrudgingly and formally introduced you to Steve.

“Captain,” you said, sticking your hand out towards him.

He bypassed your offered hand and went in for a hug instead, making sure to whisper a quiet “thank you” in your ear before pulling away. You gave him your best smile, without making it too obvious to Bucky what just took place, and as you walked them both out the front door of the shop, you thanked them both again.

-

“So…” Steve began, prompting Bucky to tell him everything.

“Calm down, Captain,” he said, pausing for a few moments to let his friend’s enthusiasm dim a little. Once Steve’s excitement had gone down, he filled his friend in on the session. “It actually was cathartic. She touched my skin, and before the end of the session I wasn’t even flinching or tensing at all. It felt… nice.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“She’s gorgeous, Buck. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

On the contrary, he noticed very much. He watched the way the loose hairs falling out of your messy bun hung in your face while you were deep in concentration, and he noticed the sweet smell of your faint perfume. He watched you with fascination as your deft fingertips danced along his skin and truth be told, he was having a hell of a time trying to keep his shit together by the end of it. Instead of telling Steve any of this, he just said, “Yeah, she is.”

Steve, knowing his best friend better than he knew himself, shook his head, knowing damn well what was running through Bucky’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is lovely ♥ come find me on [tumblr](http://stanclub.tumblr.com/)!


	3. I Can Do Anything, Anything, Anything I Want

The following session with Bucky’s therapist was short, sweet, and to the point. The doctor asked how the tattooing went, what feelings and memories the contact evoked as well as the machine, and what he thought of the entire process. He walked her through the time the two of you spent together and let her know that he would be going back, and that he was looking forward to it. **  
**

“Thank you,” he told her. “I didn’t think it would help as much as it has, and I’ve only gone once. This could really be something for me, Doc.”

She smiled warmly at him. “Sergeant, I’m glad. Just be careful and if you feel yourself slipping during a session with her, call it off and go back another day. One sitting won’t be a cure-all for you. It’s much the same as it is when you’re with me. Some days are great, some aren’t, and it’s up to you to be able to tell the difference.”

Bucky took the therapist’s words to heart, understanding the implication there. He might be reformed, but he was still frightening when his mind wasn’t right. He made a mental note to pay closer attention before leaving her office.

-

Clothes were everywhere. Tac pants and jeans were strewn along the floor, various tees and shirts were all across the bed. It was absolute chaos in Bucky’s room. For a skilled assassin, he sure did have a lot of clothing and he was really kicking himself for it now.

A knock sounded on his door and he sent a wordless prayer of thanks to whichever god was listening. He opened it, gesturing for Natasha to enter. “Gee Buck, what’s got your panties in a twist? Hot date tonight?”

He rolled his eyes impossibly hard. “No. Please don’t make this more awkward than it needs to be. I have my next tattoo sitting today and I can’t ask Steve what to wear because he’s being Steve about the whole situation.”

Natasha nodded. “So Steve wants to be the best man in your wedding, you mean?”

“YES.”

“He’s exhausting. Okay, so what are we working with then?” She strode her way over to the mess Bucky had created, looking at him and then turning to the options he had laid out. “Wear the grey vintage tee with the leather jacket. It will bring out your eyes. Go for the medium wash jeans, the tighter ones make your ass look amazing. Oh and wear your hair in a knot. Girls love that, especially on you, Barnes.” She paused once again, looking him over one last time. “You know what, shave your face too, but not all the way. Leave a little dusting of stubble.” And with that, she left him to it.

-

“No, Steve. You’re not coming this time. End. Of. Story.” As much as Bucky loved his best friend, he sure could be an exasperating son of a bitch.

“But Buck!” Steve whined.

“I said no.”

-

Bucky strode into The Skin Canvas with purpose. He was determined to have another successful session and if he were being honest with himself, he was excited to see you again. He couldn’t explain it, but there was something warm about you and a man who has spent so many years of his life literally frozen could really get used to the feeling.

As he approached the counter, Adam waved. “Hey Bucky! I’ll see if she’s ready for you.” The super soldier nodded, swaying on his feet as he awaited Adam’s return from the back.

Bucky took a moment to reassess the lobby of the tattoo shop. The walls were a welcoming shade of yellow but they weren’t overpowering. The accents were all black and there were splashes of color everywhere; blue and red and green and purple. The shop had a mellow vibe to it, laid back. Bucky decided he really, really liked it there.

Adam returned to his spot behind the counter and gestured to your office as he said, “You can head on back, man.” Bucky thanked him and did just that.

-

Thank god you weren’t mid-bite when Bucky entered your workspace because you would have choked on your chocolate. He looked different somehow, yet still the same. You had to be staring, you knew it, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Bucky noticed your eyes glued on him (how could he not), and he began looking himself over. “What, do I have food on my clothes or something?”

Busted! “Oh, no Sarge. Nothing like that. You look pretty incredible today is all,” you told him, figuring if you were busted anyway there was no use in lying about why.

Plus, the flush that covered his skin was worth the blunt honesty. “Really? I mean, thank you.” Then he smiled at you. Really smiled. And you had no idea how you were going to manage to get through the day because that smile—totally genuine and breathtaking—nearly brought you to your knees.

You shook yourself. This was not your typical behavior. Usually, you were professional and well mannered, and you were worried, especially with Bucky’s past, about coming off too flirty. You made a mental note to reign it in a little bit.

“So how does it feel right now?” You asked, intrigued to see how the serum helped the healing process.

“It actually feels great! I kept ointment on it and it was pretty much completely healed the day after our first session. I’m ready for a second round for sure,” he told you, lifting his shirt up at the hem and tugging it up over his head.

KEEP. YOUR. SHIT. TOGETHER. You let your eyes rake over his chiseled body on their way down to the tattoo and even though it was just line work, it already looked amazing. You were proud of your work so far and couldn’t wait to bring the rest of the tattoo to life.

“Looks great! When you’re ready, go ahead and get situated. I grabbed the pillows already,” you told him pointing to the corner of your little tattoo room.

He contemplated for a minute before shrugging and sitting down without them. “Eh, I’m feeling adventurous today. Let’s try without pillows and see how it goes.”

You watched as he took a seat on the leather bench then lowered himself down onto his back. Once you were relatively sure he was okay, you began pulling your colored inks out of their designated spots on the shelf and grabbed some cups. “Did you want the colors to match what Steve had on the drawing?” You asked. An idea was shaping in your mind, and it did not match the star-spangled monstrosity Steve had filling the design.

Bucky surprised you though, saying, “I’m not married to the idea. I’ve seen your work and I respect it. If you’re thinking something else, by all means help yourself, doll.”

Smiling, you turned away from him and began pulling ink tops off and filling cups with it. “You respect my work?”

Bucky felt himself flushing again, embarrassed by his forwardness. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Feeling the shift in his temperment, you turned back to him. “I heard stories, you know. The infamous James Buchanan Barnes, ladies’ man extraordinaire. How come you’re getting all bashful with me?”

Your bluntness startled a laugh from him, and goddammit you’d do anything to hear that low, throaty sound again. “Well, you know. Circumstances change. I see the value in a good woman more now than I ever did before. Makes me nervous that I’ll fuck it up and say something stupid.”

It’s your turn to laugh at that. “Bucky, people say stupid shit all the time. They still get laid.”

“Ha! I guess you’re right. Steve is my best friend! You’d think I would know that by now!” There it was again; that laugh.

“Well, how about we make a deal,” you began, turning to face him now that your equipment was set up and your gloves were on. “Why don’t we just forget about saying stupid shit and have ourselves some genuine conversation while we continue this masterpiece, huh?”

His eyes softened and his smile widened, the laughter had gone but the happiness still evident. “You got it, doll.”

“Excellent! Do you want to sanitize today or would you like me to try?” You were eager to see what the experience would be like for him today. He made amazing progress in just one sitting, but people tended to regress slightly before moving forward again.

You could see the struggle taking place in his mind as it was written all over his features. “Listen, you don’t have to push through everything today. You’ll be back in another couple days and we can try again th-” You stopped your own rant when you felt Bucky’s rough fingers gripping your own.

“Uh, Sarge? What are you doing?” You asked, not sure where he was going with his actions.

“Relax, doll. I’m trying something. Is this okay?” You nodded, urging him to continue. “I think, maybe, if I can hold on to your hands while you do it, at least until I get used to your hands on my skin again, it’ll be better.” That was actually a genius idea. You told him as much, too.

He let your hands go so that you could grab the sanitizer and a paper towel. After you poured a bit of the sanitizer on the towel, he grabbed your hand and brought it to his skin. An audible breath left his lungs. “You’re ok, Bucky. You are in control,” you said, making sure your voice was soft and steady.

He pulled your hand towards himself and winced slightly at the initial contact. He relaxed immediately, though, and looked up at you. His face was illuminated with pride and his smile made your heart flutter. “You’re doing great!”

“I’m gonna let go of your hands now. Can you, um, would you mind keeping them there? Just for a few more seconds?”

Bucky slowly let go of his grip on your hands and let his own fall to his sides, marveling at the way your hands moved gently over his skin. “This feels… different. Good.”

“Awesome, Sarge! The sanitizing is done so I’m going to remove my hands now, okay?” He nodded, watching as your gloved fingers pulled away from his abdomen. He found himself wishing that you didn’t have to pull away at all.

You had grabbed your tattoo machine and with it in hand turned back toward Bucky once more. “I’m going to use a little more contact during this session due to the colors and the amount of space needing filled. If you get cagey and need to stop me just say the word. I’ll stop the machine to check on you every once in a while, too.”

“You’re very understanding,” he told you with a thoughtful smirk.

“It’s what I pride myself on,” you said with a wink. “I’m going to put my hand on your skin now, okay?”

Bucky nodded, bracing himself for the contact. When the needles touched his skin, he couldn’t help but jump. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Will I ever get used to that?”

You thought about it while you filled in a section, then as you paused to wipe the ink and blood away you shrugged. “Honestly? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone not have that reaction at first contact with the machine.”

Bucky nodded. He had begun to relax, sinking into the chair as you moved. Your hands hadn’t left his skin completely since the machine turned on and he was practically giddy with pride at how well he had been handling it. Actually, when he really focused on the area you were touching, he could admit that the feel of your hands on his skin felt kind of nice.

“You doin’ okay up there, Sarge?” You asked, feeling him slip into his own mind and pulling him back to the present.

“Yeah. Just reflecting, I guess. Having your hands on me is a good feeling. I’m starting to get used to it.”

“That’s amazing to hear! I still want you to tell me if you need a break though, okay?” He nodded, eyelids drifting closed as he sank into the rhythm of the tattoo machine and the sound of your voice. “Why don’t you tell me about Steve?” you asked, hoping for some conversation. It would be easier to see how his mental state was if he were talking.

“Where do you want me to start?” He asked. It seemed as though most of the world knew everything there was to know about their friendship. “Have you been to the Captain America exhibit?”

You laughed. “Of course I have. I know the basics, but I want you to tell me stories. Something no one else would know.”

Bucky smiled softly as he searched through cloudy memories of his best friend. “Well, when we were kids, I was always getting us into trouble. I mean, loads of trouble. This one time, we were out with these two girls and I remember sneaking up into my date’s room. Both girls went through the front door of her house, but Steve and me couldn’t very well walk in behind them. I started climbing the gutter on the side of her house and her dad must’ve heard because this scary looking giant of a man came storming out ready to murder me I swear.”

You began laughing, clearly picturing the story playing out in front of you. “Oh my god, really?” you asked as you wiped his skin. “Did he have a shotgun or something?”

A shit-eating grin practically split Bucky’s face in half. “No, no. He was just a huge wall of muscle. But Steve, he had no regard for self-preservation. And he was a nice guy. He actually went and chatted the guy up, telling him he was just making sure his daughter got home and up to her room alright before taking off, giving me the chance to climb all the way up without the guy even noticing!”

“You’re kidding, right?” You were totally invested in his words.

He shook his head and placed his metal hand over his heart. “It’s the god’s honest truth!”

“So, what happened after? Did Steve sneak up too?” A furiously red blush began spreading across Bucky’s face and neck, creeping down his torso. “You’re a sly little shit, Bucky Barnes. Tell me you did not.”

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t, doll.” He was staring at you as he said the words with a smoldering look in his eyes and good lord if this was what a flirty Bucky was like you were in for it.

“Well I’ll be damned. You really are a ladies’ man.”

You heard a soft sigh spill out of Bucky’s mouth before he said, “Correction, I was a ladies’ man.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Are. Present tense. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Have you seen your face?” And with that the blush covering his skin was back with a vengeance.

-

The two of you continued through the session telling stories and laughing, while you periodically checked in with him. Things were going so well you didn’t even take breaks and before you knew it you were finished for the day. His skin was red and angry, but it was looking beautiful.

Bucky had been quiet for a few minutes, lost in thought you presumed. You finished wiping his skin, maintaining contact as much as possible. You were so proud of the progress he had made. “Alright, Sarge. You’re finished,” you told him, removing your hands from his warm skin.

It was then that you noticed it; the smallest of whimpers followed by a hoarsely whispered “no.”

Shit, shit, shit. He laid flat on his back, as tense as could be. His hands were formed into fists, clenched tightly at his sides and sweat covered him from head to toe. Once the situation registered in your mind, you moved as quickly as you could.

You tore the gloves from your hands and began speaking to him softly. “Bucky, it’s okay. You’re safe.” You moved closer to him and placed your hands on either side of his jaw, rubbing his scruffy cheeks. “Bucky,” you repeated, “it’s okay. You’re safe. You’re in the tattoo shop.”

Another strangled whimper left him and your heart began pounding into overdrive. “Bucky!” Your voice had gotten louder and you began carding your fingers through his hair as you spoke. “Bucky, you’re okay. You’re safe. Please. Open your eyes for me.”

You continued carding your fingers through his hair and talking to him, reassuring him, and finally after a few minutes he began to come out of it. His breathing slowed, the tension left his limbs, and his eyes opened to look at you. “Doll?”

“Bucky! Holy shit you’re back. Thank god.” Your hands were still in his hair and you made no effort to move. “What happened?”

“Can I… Uh… Can I grab some water?” He asked, ignoring your question.

You looked at him carefully before saying, “Yes, I’ll get it for you. I’m going to move my hands away from you now but I’ll be right back, okay?” He nodded and you walked out of the little room, giving him space to process what the fuck just happened.

-

He had been joking and laughing and telling stories, and before he knew it he was remembering bits of his time as The Soldier. Missions. Being treated like an object. Hydra. It was horrible. Blood was everywhere. It was so cold, always so fucking cold. The only thing keeping him grounded was your hands on him, ironically enough. Until they weren’t on him anymore.

He could hear you talking to him. He heard his name, he felt your touch, but he couldn’t move. For a fleeting moment he even feared it was Hydra coming for him. He knew better, though.

After a few moments, he fought his way out of the memories. He was okay, he was safe. He was with you.

-

After getting him a small glass of water, you instructed him to get off the bench and check out the work you had done on his tattoo during that session. He was a little shaky still, but after giving his approval he let you bandage him up.

“Listen, Sarge. I noticed how you conveniently dodged my question about what happened, but we need to talk about that. We need an open line of communication and trust between us, okay? I’m going to take you out for some coffee and make sure you get back to the tower safely.”

He didn’t even have the energy to fight you on it.

-

The two of you approached and entered your favorite place to eat in all of Brooklyn: Frankie’s Donuts. It was an absolute dive, but you hadn’t found better coffee anywhere ever in your entire life and their food was amazing, too. You found a small booth in the back of the restaurant away from prying eyes and ears. After placing your coffee orders, you turned to face him.

“Now that we’re here… Wanna tell me what happened back there?”

He sighed and shook his head. “Do I have to?” The look on your face told him your answer. “Alright. I guess with all the storytelling I just started kind of falling into old memories. Hydra memories. I was okay though, I think your hands on me kept me grounded. When you pulled away I guess I just… Panicked.”

“Is there something I could have done to prevent that from happening?” You wondered if you should have stopped to check on him more when things got quiet. Maybe you should have stopped for a break even if he hadn’t asked for one.

“No, doll. This was all on me. I should have spoken up.”

He moved so that his forearms rested on the tabletop and his hands were clenched in front of him. You covered his hands with your own as you spoke. “Bucky, I know those memories must not have been nice ones. Do you want to talk about them?”

“I… uh… I don’t remember everything. I just get snippets of memories every so often, so there’s not much to talk about. But a lot of it is just the same thing over and over again, just different scenarios.”

You thanked the waitress, who had stopped to drop off your coffees, before looking to Bucky. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this. You don’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He’s heard those same words from just about everyone he’s encountered in the time he’s been back yet none of them meant anything compared to yours.

-

The mood subtly shifted as the two of you sipped your coffees and made small conversation. He asked questions about you, where you grew up, your favorite color, your family, your friends, and he even stuttered through asking if you were single. You told him how you began painting, what drew you to tattooing, and why you find it so enjoyable.

Conversation between the two of you came easy, and before either of you realized, hours had passed. “Hey, we’re closing,” the waitress said as she brought you the bill. “I hope your date was lovely,” she added thoughtfully.

Bucky turned the darkest shade of red and you snorted a small laugh out. “Thanks, Marge. You’re sweet!”

“Why didn’t you tell her we weren’t on a date?” Bucky asked when his wits returned.

“Because she’s a sweet old lady. And besides, I wouldn’t hate it if this were a date, you know,” you told him with a wink.

His answering smirk sent the butterflies in your stomach into a tizzy. “In that case, doll, I do believe I’ll be paying,” he said, snatching the bill from your hands. You stood there with your jaw hanging open as he paid. “C’mon, doll. Steve will start to worry if I don’t get back soon.”

You snapped your jaw shut and followed after him as he walked out of the diner and onto the streets of Brooklyn. Instead of letting you walk him to the tower, he walked you back to the shop where your car waited.

-

“Thanks for the coffee, Sarge,” you told him as you walked toward the shop. “I can’t remember the last time something like that happened.”

The two of you approached your car and he lightly grasped your arm. “No, doll. Thank you. For everything you did today.” He pulled you in towards him allowing you to wrap your arms around his waist. He hugged you back and as he pulled away, placed the smallest kiss on your cheek.

-

It was on that journey from Brooklyn to Manhattan that Bucky realized he had gone on a date for the first time in over 70 years. With you. Fuck him if the thought of seeing you again didn’t feel like the most amazing thing.

-

“Stark?” Bucky yelled as he walked into his lab. “You in here?”

“Over here,” Tony called from behind a table looking at the mechanism of something Bucky couldn’t even begin to even want to comprehend.

“I have an idea. Oh and a favor to ask of you…”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is life ♥ find me on [tumblr](http://stanclub.tumblr.com/)!


	4. Can You Feel My Heart

The breeze outside felt incredible as it swirled and danced over your sweat-damp skin. The temperature was unbearably warm but as miserable as it was, your mood was incredible! The day had come for your final appointment with Bucky, which meant that the two of you could go on an  _actual_ date. Just your makeshift coffee date  _alone_  was enough to cross the professional line. You didn’t want to be such a big part of his recovery while also dating him because it just didn’t feel right to do that to him. You knew your work on his tattoo was almost finished, so you promised yourself that after the final appointment you would have a conversation about your feelings with Bucky, which would hopefully end with a plan to go somewhere, panic attacks preferably left out of it. 

 Your heart had been racing all day, and with about ten minutes to go until appointment time you felt like it might just beat right out of your chest. You checked your clothing- a simple jeans-and-tee combo with your favorite red Chuck Taylors and matching bandana tied in your hair like a headband- about 45 times, you checked your workspace over making sure everything you needed was there, you took the trash out, helped Adam stock the shelves out front, and you had run out of things to keep busy with, leaving you stuck just waiting, playing out the entire appointment in your head.

 _Finally_ , you thought to yourself as the air seemed to shift,  _he’s here!_

Adam came back to check on you. he knew you weren’t booked with another client, but he knew what was going on and what you had planned to do after the appointment was finished, so he was just making sure you were still… you know… alive.

“Breathe. You got this, okay? He’s clearly smitten with you, Y/N.” Adam told you as he wrapped his arms around you in a reassuring embrace.

Again, you breathed deeply. “Thanks, Adam. Send him back, please.”

“Hi, Bucky!” You greeted him with a hug, trying  _not_  to seem too enthusiastic.

He returned your hug and smiled warmly at you. “Hey, doll! It’s good to see you!”

There were a few moments of awkward silence, the two of you smiling at one another yet not knowing what to say. It was ridiculous. You mentally chastised yourself for being so strange and shook your head to clear it. “So, our last appointment has come! How excited are you to see this baby finished?” You motioned for him to remove his shirt as you braced yourself for the delightful figure you knew waited for you underneath.

A soft chuckle escaped him as he made a noise of approval. “I’m glad it’ll be over, I guess. There will be things I miss about our appointments, though,” he said, winking at you.

“Oh? And what might those be?”

“I’ll tell you later,” was the only response he offered.

-

As you put the final touches on the design decorating Bucky’s lower abdomen, you took a step back and admired your work. It was  _beautiful_  and it moved  _with_ Bucky, accentuating the dips and curves of his musculature. You wiped his skin down, making sure all the excess ink and blood were long gone before grabbing the tub of ointment.

“How’s it look, doll?” He hadn’t been looking. Each time you looked up to check on him his eyes had been closed and a small smile had been playing at his lips. Little did you know, he  _was_  looking, just not at the tattoo.

You had grabbed up a bit of the thick, goopy substance with your fingers and brought it to his skin. He had done  _so well_  with the contact today and you were beyond proud of him. “I hate to brag, Sarge, but it looks amazing!” Your fingers danced along his skin as you spoke, drifting all along the design and even out a little ways, soothing the irritated skin. Your hand must have dipped lower than usual, though, because he let out a sinful sound during one of your last dips around the lower part of the design.

You thought you had done something wrong, maybe touched him in a way he found to be painful or uncomfortable. “Oh my goodness, are you okay?” You asked as you placed your palm flat over his skin and stopped moving, not wanting to pull away completely for fear of what happened last time happening again.

“Y-yes I’m um. I’m fine. Sorry about that,” he muttered as he shifted his body around on the bench. “That was embarrassing.”

“What do you mean. embarrassing? I thought I hurt you,” you explained.

“No, it was quite the opposite. Not a bad sound at all.” A furiously red blush overtook his upper body in the most adorable way as a smile broke out on your face. “I haven’t been touched in so long. That’s just an… extra sensitive spot.”

“Noted,” you responded, trying to conceal your smile by biting your lips together. You turned your back to him and put the cap back on the goop before turning back towards him and instructing him to check out the finished tattoo in the full-length mirror.

Bucky got up slowly, having gotten used to the position and sitting still. He stretched out, giving you quite the view of his toned body, and you weren’t entirely sure he hadn’t been doing it on purpose. He strode over to the mirror where he took in his finished tattoo and he couldn’t believe what you had done with him.

“Holy shit,” he said in disbelief.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” You asked, curious to get more out of him.

His eyes followed every line, every swirl, every color change in the intense design Steve had prepared for Bucky. It looked good on paper, sure, but it looked  _alive_  on his skin. The colors blended beautifully, the words standing out against the sea of yellows, reds, oranges, purples, greens, and blues. Bucky began to get emotional as he took in the artwork laid upon his skin, a visual representation of what he felt inside and what he had hoped to feel again. Recovery, hope, love, warmth. “Its…” He was struggling to find the right word. “Its… me.”

The softness in his voice paired with the astonishment on his face and the words that came out of his mouth caused a strong feeling to take over you. It was heavy. You could taste the melancholy on your tongue yet it was still happy. He was pleased with the work you had done, yet your heart broke for all that he had been through and all he had to overcome.

“Bucky, I’m so proud of you,” you told him as you approached. He still stood admiring his tattoo, but he noticed you coming up behind him. You reached up on your toes and looked at his reflection’s eyes as you spoke. “So, so proud.”

It was then that he had turned to face you. “Thank you so much, doll. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to repay you for all that you’ve done,” he said, wrapping you up in a tight hug, careful of his not-yet-bandaged tattoo.

You laughed lightly and looked up at his face. He looked relaxed. Peaceful. “Funny thing, Sarge. You don’t have to  _repay_  me since you  _actually_  paid me. But if you insist, we could do dinner?”

“Like a…“

“Yes, a date. My treat this time?” You tried, but the look he shot you suggested you would most definitely not be paying.

“I would love that,” he said slowly releasing you from his embrace. “When are you free?”

“I was thinking tonight, actually, if that would be okay for you. Maybe we could do something easy? I know this great gourmet grilled cheese place I think you’d love.”

“Sounds great! I was actually hoping to talk to you about something so I’ll save it for dinner. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

You walked with him out the front door of  _The Skin Canvas_. “7 it is. See you then, Sarge,” you told him with a wink and a smile.

He bent down and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you then, sweetheart.” And with that, he left.

-

You spent the next several hours replaying your conversation as you planned your outfit (you didn’t change) and stress cleaned your apartment.

_What the hell does Bucky Barnes want to talk to me about?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is life ♥ find me on [tumblr](http://stanclub.tumblr.com/)!


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